When at last Seraphine tumbled us through an old door carved in trees and mushrooms, she fell onto the floor in a loud thunk, sprawled out across a blue woven rug.
“Seraphine!” My son raced from the enormous bed in the room, diving to the floor, picking his wife up into his arms. Shemoaned, curling into his chest. He finally looked my way, disbelief crossing his face. “Mother?”
“Korven,” I choked. “There isn’t time to explain. Where’s Morella?”
“She is here.” An enormous man rose from the bedside with lightly freckled skin and wild blue eyes, rimmed red. His copper hair fell into his face where a scruffy beard covered his chin and cheeks. “Tell me you can save her,” he pleaded.
“Killian?” I guessed.
He nodded, crossing the room in two strides and taking my arm, leading me to the bed. There my daughter lay over shimmering wings of gold. Her face had sunken, cheeks no longer round, lips no longer plump and red. I pressed a hand to her forehead, recognizing the high temperature.
“How long has she been like this?”
Killian answered me, resuming his bedside vigilance. “Forty-one days and five hours.” He pulled back the blankets over her belly, revealing a budding round shape. “She’s five months along with our child.”
I placed my hand over her, closing my eyes and reaching for the babe. As the Ravenfae Goddess of the Realm, I could find every single one of them. If I concentrated hard enough, I’d feel every Ravenfae life source from the Veil. I breathed a sigh. “Your child is alive and well.”
Killian tore his hands through his hair, rocking in his agitation. “And Morella? What can you do for her?”
“I need you to leave.”
“No,” he snapped.
“Korven,” I called, “escort your wife and Morella’s husband from this room.”
Killian bolted out of his chair. “I will not leave her!”
“You will if you want her to live, now go. She has no time for this.”
“Who do you?—”
Korven turned him by the shoulders. “I know you don’t understand, but you need to listen to her. Please. Help Seraphine. She shifted too hard and needs to rest. I promise I will not leave Morella.”
Killian’s eyes darted to me in a sharp glare. The man didn’t trust his wife’s mother, whom he’d never met. That alone told me he was a good husband.
“Alright,” he conceded. “I will not leave this room for long.” He leaned down, sweeping a hand over Morella’s forehead. “Moh Geràdah, Moh Dóches,” he whispered as he kissed her. Turning to Seraphine, he draped her arm over his shoulder and left the room.
“What can you do?” Korven asked quickly.
“Sit there,” I ordered. His brow raised, but he did as I said, sitting on the opposite side of his sister.
“When I was carrying her, I got sick. It’s part of why it took me so long to return to the Brackish Wood and get back to you that summer.”
He nodded silently, pulling his sister’s hand into his. “It is a sickness that I’ve only seen in Ravenfae mothers. Our people are the Cursebringers, the race of fae tied most closely to the Veil, and we hold within us memories of our time before we crossed over to this realm. With her child from the Veil growing inside her, the Veil is thin around Morella. She comes from a long line of Cursebringers and was originally born to become one.”
He frowned, his dark eyes furrowed. “You’re saying I’ve done this to her? By taking the role of Cursebringer?”
“No. I have by being away for so long.” I swept my hand over her cheek. “Keep her hand in yours. Just as the Goddesses did for me when I had this illness, we will take her hands and pull her back from the edge of the Veil, and remind her she is needed here. We will pour everything into it. All our good memories. All our love for her.”
“Yourlovefor her?” He searched my face. “You love Morella?”
“Yes,” I laughed. “And you.”
“Your curse?—”
“Has been broken.”
His deep brown eyes limned with tears. “Right. You’ll explain later. I just—are you sure it’s broken?”
